Half Frost
by highfunctioning-homosapien
Summary: Sherlock Holmes receives an unlikely visitor to 221B. I own nothing, of course.
1. A Beginning

**So I should be writing my other stories which need finishing plus I have an original piece for NaNoWriMo in the making, but my brain had other ideas and this little thing popped into my head. Not sure how many chapters there will be right now, but yeah I hope y'all like it. Also SherLoki most definitely MUST become a thing because reasons. **

**-MG**

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**Chapter 1 - a beginning.**

In Sherlock Holmes' later life he did not speak of his past. If the topic was brought up, people who knew Sherlock would change the subject in fear of getting hurt, judging by the look in Sherlock's eye, and people who didn't know him would change the topic because they thought he would be upset, judging by the look in his eyes. In actual fact neither was true. Sherlock did not dwell on his past because he had spent much of his adult life trying to shut it out; it would be a waste of all his time and effort. And in any case, what use did it have to him? So he pushed it away, piled other memories on top of it and tried to forget. His work provided an adequate distraction, kept his mind off his past, but without it, during those long days of sickening boredom, the memories would rot his brain.

Sherlock particularly tried to forget his mother. In his early years he was surprisingly close to the woman. She was kind and attentive, despite her anxiety, not to mention she was beautiful, with her dark curls, light blue eyes and deep cupid's bow: everyone could see what Sherlock's father could see in her, though not many saw what she saw in him, though their marriage had always been more about politics than love anyway. Sherlock took after his mother, whereas his brother, Mycroft had taken after their father, inheritting not only his looks but his ambition and determination.

Sherlock's mother had taught him many of the things he knew. Violin for example, but most of all, she had taught him how to be normal. Or as normal as one like Sherlock Holmes could ever be.

"Sherlock, concentrate." she had told him sternly.

"But I don't understand. You don't mind me being cold." a petulant five year old Sherlock had replied.

"Other people will. You have to learn before you go to school. Try again, touch my hand."

And so Sherlock concentrated on forcing all the warmth he could into his skin. Sherlock had always known he was different. The cold weather did not affect him, he could hold ice without it melting and he could go outside in the snow wearing his bathing shorts, whilst Mycroft had to wrap in coats and scarves and layers. There was something wrong with him, though it wasn't until he went to school that he minded.

"Freak!"

Sherlock rolled his eyes at the crowd of boys laughing at him and continued to walk to the his usual tree. He wore only a shirt and trousers, despite the snow covering the ground and floating down from the sky. A few flakes rested on Sherlock's cheekbones and did not melt, giving him the look of a marble statue, even though he was walking briskly. He reached the tree and sat down, opening a large leather bound book. Sherlock was 8 years old. He understood that he was different, though he made no attempt to conform to societies norms. And as predicted, what humanity did not understand, it feared; so Sherlock was labelled "freak". His mother had always told him to roll down his sleeves, wear a coat when it was cold, but he never did as he was told. Not until his mother had died the next summer, anyway.


	2. One And The Same

**So you can add images now? Right.. Well I'm just gonna ignore that because I can't be bothered to pick out images. Maybe when I am procrastinating. Anyway, here's chapter two (the Loki part of SherLoki should make more sense now) Also I just want to point out that this is either set before Loki breaks Manhattan in Avengers, or perhaps an AU in which he doesn't try to take over Midgard, I'm not completely sure yet.**

**Enjoy! -MG**

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**Chapter 2 - One and the same**

_The brother. Yes. He was jealous, always had been. Had previous anger issues, that was more than obvious from his knuckles, not to mention the NHS files. So he mad a motive. And weapon, the knife of course. But an opportunity? OF COURSE. Yes now it all made sense, his girlfriend still had the knife on her from when they cut the cake, so obviously all he had to do was steal it and-_

Sherlock was suddenly and violently ripped from his thoughts as something large collided with the front windows and smashed through them, leaving a wake of shattered glass which sparkled in the weak English sun. He sat upright on the sofa and swung his legs around so that his bare feet rested on the cool floor. The mystery something was now more clearly a person. A man to be precise. The man groaned and rolled over onto his back, eyes closed and face contorted in pain. Sherlock could now get a closer look at the man and form conclusions on him.

He was tall, about 6 foot and had pale skin, a straight nose and raven black hair, longer than usually found on a man. This however was not the only strange thing about his appearance. He was also clad in some sort of golden armor and a green cape was twisted around his left leg.

_He could not have fallen, or he would have hit the roof, so sideways then. Odd, he obviously could not have been thrown that high, nor could he have jumped. Now his armor. Unusual, looks well worn- scrapes and the leather is cut in several places._

Sherlock's thoughts were interrupted yet again by the mysterious man who was presently getting up. He huffed and stood up, leaning gingerly on his left leg. He looked around and spotted Sherlock. fixing him with narrowed eyes, he spoke.

"I apologize for the mess." His accent was soft and well spoken, though his voice barely hid the hint of sarcasm.

"My landlady will not be pleased." Sherlock replied, his own voice devoid of any emotion.

Sherlock saw something flicker over the man's face. _Was that confusion? _He was evidently not familiar with the term 'landlady'. _Strange. So he is not from around here, though his accent suggests otherwise._

Both men locked eyes for a moment before the armored man broke the silence.

"I do not suppose you have any water?" He asked with a kind look which didn't quite reach his cold eyes. Sherlock smirked. _Oh hello, do we have another Moriarty here? _He nodded to the man and made his way to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water. He felt the man's eyes on his back as he turned away.

"Do you have a name?" Sherlock spoke loudly over the sound of water pouring from the tap and into a glass.

"Loki Laufeyson. Of the realm of Asgard." Sherlock heard the self assuredness in his voice, but there was something else, too. _He was proving himself. So a damaged ego then? Probably in the past. Now Loki and Asgard. Ah Norse Mythology. Now this man could be insane... But the armor, not to mention he smashed with some force through the windows. Once you had eliminated the impossible..._

"I see." Sherlock turned and padded back towards the man- Loki, with the glass. "I am Sherlock Holmes."

The man merely blinked in reply and took the glass, gulping down the entire contents and throwing the empty glass to the floor, where it smashed amongst the pieces of broken windows. Sherlock raised his eyebrows.

"Now you owe me both new windows and a new glass." He stated.

Loki ignored him and stood up. He made his way over to the window frames, feet crunching on the glass below and looked out at the skies with a nervous look on his face.

"You are a demi-god, am I correct?" Sherlock asked, watching Loki's movements carefully.

Loki looked back towards Sherlock as though he had forgotten he was there. "Indeed." His voice and face were blank and emotionless.

"I take it you are looking for your brother, Thor? I assume he was the one to create the foul weather earlier. The meteorologists will have a fit." He added, laughing slightly under his breath.

Loki frowned, a flash of anger, _no hurt_, crossed his face as he turned towards Sherlock. _I appear to have struck a nerve, interesting._

"Thor is not my brother." Loki replied bitterly. "And to reply to your earlier statement, he is the one who owes you the new windows, as he threw me through them."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "Brotherly feuds, now that _is_ something I am familiar with." He muttered.

The demi-god took a couple of steps towards Sherlock, obviously intending to threaten him. Sherlock however, stood his ground and met Loki's light blue gaze with his own.

"You are confident, for a mortal, to stand up to a god."

"Why shouldn't I be? You don't scare me."

Loki smirked at that. "Oh really?"

"Really." Sherlock lifted his chin higher to prove his point and Loki's smirk grew into a grin.

"You are interesting, Sherlock Holmes. You said you are familiar with meddling brothers, yes? Well do you know how it is to live in another's shadow?"

Sherlock paused for a moment before answering. "Yes." He said, simply.

Loki took Sherlock's chin his his hand and turned his face slowly from side to side. Sherlock let him and merely raised an eyebrow.

"You are interesting..." Loki murmured, his eyes raking all over Sherlock's face, from his pale eyes to his prominent cheekbones. Slowly, from the places where their skin touched, a blue coldness crept like frost up Sherlock's jaw and Loki's fingers. Loki frowned and pulled back his hand, as if scolded. He held his hand up and watched as his long fingers gradually returned to their normal colour.

Sherlock stared incredulously at Loki's fingers before grabbing his hands in his own. The blue crept back from their clasped hands and underneath their sleeves.

"This cannot be." Loki whispered. His eyes flicked upwards and met Sherlock's.

Though they could only see each other's faces, both sets of pale blue eyes betrayed the same emotions: shock, confusion and a sense that they were unified, despite only just meeting.

The blue colour eventually made it to the man's and the demi-god's faces. Their eyes both turning red and their skin forming raised lines along the planes of their faces.

"No... No, this isn't possible." Sherlock blinked and wrenched his hands away, turning away from Loki. "Get out. GET OUT!" He turned back and screamed at Loki, rage pulsating from every pore. He ran and grabbed the lapels of Loki's clothing. "I SAID GET OUT." Loki stumbled back, hurt and confused, before his jaw set and his eyes turned cold and hard. He spun on his heel, his cape following and he shifted into a black magpie before taking flight out of the shattered windows.

Sherlock grabbed his hair in fistfuls and paced, ignoring the pain of glass against his bare feet. _What was he? Who the hell was Loki Laufeyson? This made no sense... And yet..._

_"_Argh!" Sherlock let out a noise which was somewhere between a snarl and a groan and stomped to his bedroom. Memories of holding snowballs for hours without them melting were flooding back, and he needed to repair the dam which Loki had just smashed. This couldn't happen, not now.


	3. Something New

"Sherlock? You in?" John rubbed his hands together, the plastic bag on his arm rustling as he ran up the stairs. "Sherlock? Sh- jesus christ!" He stopped dead upon entering the living room and seeing the covering of glass on the floor.

He gingerly made his way into the glass-free kitchen and put the shopping bag on the table. "Sherlock?" He called out again. There was a groan from the direction of Sherlock's bedroom and John followed the sound. He knocked on the door and waited a few moments before entering the room. Sherlock lay on his back, eyes closed with his palms pressed together under his chin. He could have been sleeping, though John knew better- Sherlock hardly ever slept.

"Sherlock, care to tell me why we no-longer have windows in the front room?" John asked, tapping his foot impatiently on the floor and leaning against the doorframe.

Sherlock came out of his stupor and fixed John with a stare. "Loki Laufeyson." He replied before closing his eyes once more.

"Right, is that meant to mean anything to me?" John frowned, not in the mood for Sherlock's cryptic answers.

Sherlock sighed audibly and sat up. "Loki, the demi-god was thrown through the windows by his brother Thor and I chucked him out, happy?"

"OK, I don't know what the hell you're talking about but you are going to clean up that mess right now whilst I look up how much it's going to be to get new bloody windows, alright." John gave the other man a stern look and left the room. Sherlock contemplated arguing but decided it wasn't worth the effort and he followed John out of his bedroom, only to find that there was no mess to clean up.

John stood frozen to the spot, pointing vaguely at the floor, his eyebrows creased. "I didn't imagine the glass everywhere, did I?"

"No, the cuts on the soles of my feet are evidence enough."

Sherlock surveyed the flat with a sweeping glance, but it was just as it was before Loki had smashed his way into it. The windows were perfectly intact, the floor clean. _Loki must have come back and fixed it whilst John was talking to me. _Sherlock's opinion of the demi-god softened slightly. It was not his fault after all that any of this had happened. It was pure chance that he and Thor had been fighting over London and that Thor had just happened to throw him into the building with Sherlock in. Sherlock the only other one like Loki, that he knew of. What did it mean? Was he a demi-god? Those same questions had been mulling around his brain for the last hour or so, along with the question _should he tell John? _He still hadn't made up his mind. John put up with a lot, but this? He wasn't even sure what 'this' was. He needed to see Loki, the problem was finding him.

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**To the client who payed me an abrupt meeting on Tuesday, could you please contact me again, I have some matters to discuss with you.**

**-SH**

Sherlock updated his now mostly neglected website and tapped his fingers impatiently on the table. It had been a week since Sherlock had met Loki and he was no closer to finding him. He wasn't even sure if the damn god even knew what the internet was or how to use it, let alone whether he looked at his website, but it was worth a try and Sherlock's patience was running thin. He had had no case in a week and a half, John was increasingly out of the flat on dates or at the clinic and Sherlock had exhausted his supply of petrie dishes. Times were desperate in 221b. He got up from the kitchen table and paced up and down for a while, trying to distract his brain with anything and everything. _John had been in a rush this morning, the tea bags aren't put away and his plate isn't in the sink. He isn't normally late, but then again he was out last night. Who was it this time? Carrie, Claire? It began with a 'C' anyway. He didn't like her as much as the one before, he didn't wear his best shirt, but he was wearing it today..._

"Oh GOD!" He stopped pacing and gripped the kitchen counter, leaning his head back and making a "mrrghh" noise in the back of his throat. He needed a cigarette. Badly.

Sherlock marched straight away to his skull and lifted it up, looking inside. Nothing. He put it back down with a sigh and turned towards the desk, rummaging through the newspapers and sheet music which littered the surface, yet still to no avail. Sherlock continued to search around the flat for another 10 minutes or so and stomped back into the living room, angry and bored._Damn John for hiding them, doesn't he understand how DULL it is? _Then an idea popped into his head. _John_. Where would John hide something that he didn't want Sherlock to find? Somewhere Sherlock never went so that he wouldn't find them by mistake. _Ah_. Sherlock leapt up once more and went to the cupboards under the kitchen sink. He laughed a little at the thought of John hiding his cigarettes there. Of course he would hide them with the cleaning materials. It was almost a metaphor. Sherlock would get a cigarette when he cleaned the flat, or in other words, Sherlock would never get a cigarette because he never cleaned. Except, the cigarettes were not there. Sherlock practically threw the bottles of cleaning fluid out of the cupboard, and still no cigarettes were uncovered. He let out another strangled cry and stood up.

"Looking for these?" Came a soft voice from the living room. The smirk was almost audible.

Sherlock wheeled around, his dressing gown billowing out behind him like some sort of half attempt at Loki's cloak. "Finally you arrive, I expected you sooner." Sherlock desperately tried to claw back his dignity, despite the fact that Loki had most likely been watching his scrabble around in cupboards. He had no idea how long the trickster god had been there, though it was probably longer than he would have liked.

As predicted, Loki was smirking, holding up the packet of cigarettes in one hand. He was sat on the sofa, his feet planted widely apart, though this time he was wearing a long black coat and a green pattered scarf.

"You decided not to bring the armor this time?" Sherlock echoed Loki's smirk and sauntered over to the god, leaning on the back of an armchair.

Loki looked down at himself and then back up to Sherlock. "Well I supposed it would be easier to avoid Thor if I blended in with my surroundings. Though I must say, I do not understand how you Migardians wear this clothing. It feels much too flimsy and free."

"That is because we don't need to be protected by leather and metal. Us 'Midgardians' don't often battle each other in the middle of the street."

"Well I would ask you how you had been faring, but I think the answer to that is very much clear." He held out the cigarette packet to Sherlock, who did not move. "Take it then." Loki tempted.

"What is the catch?" Sherlock narrowed his eyes slightly.

"Catch? There is no catch. I am merely offering what you would have found anyway." Loki's face betrayed nothing, his eyes innocent. _Damn he had a good poker face._

"What about the window then? I must thank you for that by the way, saved my flat mate a lot of effort."

"There is still no catch. Just think of it like this. I have helped you, now you owe me something. If I ever need something of you, you must not hesitate on doing so, am I clear?"

Sherlock snatched the cigarettes from Loki's outstretched hand. "So I am in your debt. I do not much like the sound of that."

"You do not have a choice in the matter." His voice was pricked with a sense of coldness which would have made any ordinary person shiver. Sherlock however was not ordinary, and so he proceeded to take out a cigarette and light it with a box of matches which lay on the desk. He inhaled deeply and sighed in a mixture of relief and satisfaction. Loki watched him intently all the while.

"So what debt do I owe you? What is it you want me to do?" Sherlock said after another deep drag.

"Nothing, yet. I shall contact you when I need your assistance." Loki smiled.

"Fine."

They sat in silence for a time, as Sherlock finished his cigarette and threw the butt into the fireplace. He would dispose of it properly later and return the packet to its original hiding place.

"I have been meaning to ask you." Sherlock looked up into Loki's blue eyes. "Why is it that when we touch... Are we the same, somehow?" He swallowed.

"I can take on many forms, one of which is the form of a Jotunn. One of Jotunheim. That is because Jotunheim is my true heritage. Odin is not and was never my true father, instead it was Laufey, leader of the Frost Giants. I turn back to that form when I touch something which is also of Jotunheim. Like you, for example."

Sherlock frowned. "But I am not of Jotunheim."

"Then how else do you explain it?"

Sherlock could not answer. It made sense, surprising sense, but he could not be of Jotunheim. He knew his mother and father, unless they were not truly his parents, as Odin was not truly Loki's. Sherlock looked up to find Loki's face much closer than it had been previously. He felt his warm breath on his face. He trailed a finger down Loki's jaw and watched as a faint blue line followed in its wake. Loki's eyes remained fixed on Sherlock's face, though his hands moved to hold his waist. Sherlock stopped for a second, momentarily shocked by the sensation of Loki's hands on his waist. His eyes slid back up to meet the demi-god's and his breath hitched ever so slightly.

"Sherlock..." Loki spoke his name, barely more than a whisper before closing the little space between them. His lips found the other man's and he pressed into the kiss. Sherlock's lips were soft and full against his own.

Sherlock himself was more than a little shocked and confused by the whole situation. His brain was firing off in strange places and he closed his eyes to shut off the visual stimulation so that he could process what was going on between him and Loki. Just as he did so, Loki pulled away, smiling faintly. Sherlock's eyes blinked open once more and he frowned at the loss of Loki's lips. As though his body moved without consent from his brain, Sherlock kissed Loki again, deeper this time. He tilted his head to the side and he felt Loki's tongue brush his lower lip, causing a moan to escape his throat. Sherlock opened his mouth wider and their tongues met. Sherlock's hand which had been resting on Loki's jawline slipped down to his neck, whilst one of Loki's hands travelled up the other man's back, pressing their bodies together. It was Sherlock who pulled back that time, with a gasp.

"Loki... Wait, I can't. I've never done this." His hands came to rest on Loki's chest; he felt his increased heart beat.

"I'll be slow then." Loki's voice was deeper than it had been previously, and Sherlock could see that his pupils were dilated, leaving only a thin line of pale iris.

Sherlock was about to reply before Loki's lips crashed against his own once more. The feeling was incredible. Each flick of Loki's tongue sent electric shivers down Sherlock's spine and there was a warm feeling pooling in his gut. The hand on Sherlock's waist fell to his hip and Loki dug his nails into the skin covering the prominent hip bone, shooting yet more feeling down to Sherlock's gut. Sherlock's teeth caught on the demi-god's lower lip and Loki let out a half moan half growl. Sherlock nipped at his lip again, harder this time, with purpose rather than a clumsy mistake and Loki repeated the noise. Sherlock smiled slightly and-

"What the?" John Watson came bursting through the door, an sodden umbrella in one hand. He blinked dumbly at the two men in front of him who were quickly pulling apart.

"John." Sherlock's voice came out weak and husky and he coughed quickly to cover it up. "John." He repeated. "This- This is Loki." He motioned his hand towards the god who was standing awkwardly, his hands clasped in front of him.

"_What_?" John looked from the one man to the other. "No seriously, _what_? I thought you were... I don't know, what so his name is actually Loki? Like the Norse Myth?"

"Not so much a myth." Sherlock replied wryly.

"And you...? What happened to 'married to your work'?"

Sherlock frowned, "John, let me explain."

"No, I don't think you need to. So how long have you two been together then?" He wiggled a finger between them. "You know when I told you it'd be fine if you were gay, I wasn't lying."

"I'm not gay." Sherlock replied, which earned him a bitchy look from John and a snort. "I'm not! At least, I didn't think I was. Look it's complicated, let me explain."

There was something in Sherlock's eyes, a certain desperation which John couldn't really refuse. He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Fine." He mumbled before putting down the umbrella.

"You may want to sit down for this."


	4. A Confrontation

Sorry this has taken so long! I've just gone back to college (dull) and I've been sorting stuff out, but here's chapter 4 anyway. Thank you to all who have read this and reviewed too, it's much appreciated.

-MG

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**Chapter 4 - A Confrontation**

John frowned and made his way to the sofa warily. He sat himself down, his hands clasped between his knees before looking up at Sherlock.

"So?" He began, looking from Sherlock to Loki expectantly.

Sherlock looked over to the demi-god before following John and sitting in an armchair opposite the smaller man. He sighed deeply and looked into John's confused eyes.

"I am not fully human." He said at last.

John looked at him incredulously before speaking. "You what?"

"I am not completely human." Sherlock repeated calmly.

"You do know I wasn't being serious when I said you were part cyborg, right?"

"I don't mean like that. I mean I don't think my father was actually my father by blood. I am half Jotunn." Sherlock tried in earnest to make his features appear as sincere as possible, willing John to believe him.

"OK, no. What the _hell_ is going on? What do you mean 'half Jotunn' what is that?" He looked desperately from Sherlock to Loki, searching for a smirk or a twitch of the eye or some sign that that this was some sort of twisted joke.

Sherlock fought back the urge to roll his eyes and strode over to Loki. He then took rolled back his sleeve and grasped Loki's hand in his own. The two men and the God watched as the skin covering Sherlock's arm turned blue, as if he had dipped it in paint, whilst Loki fought to control his raised pulse at the sudden close contact.

John's expression changed from one of exasperation to one of disbelief. "Have you slipped drugs into my coffee again?" His voice was weak with shock and confusion.

Sherlock smiled wryly. "No John. This is who I am."

"Nope. No. You are human Sherlock. You..." He stood up and pointed suddenly at Loki, who raised his dark eyebrows at him. "What the _fuck_ have you done to him?" John let out a shaky breath.

"I have done absolutely nothing, I assure you. I was just as shocked as you are." Loki replied in a calm voice.

"I don't believe you."

"John, he's telling the truth!" By this time Sherlock's whole body had changed colour, including his eyes with were now a deep, blood red. He let go of Loki's arm and stepped towards his flat mate. "Please let me explain as much as I know." He almost begged.

John couldn't really say no, so instead he sighed once more and sat back down defeatedly. "Both Loki and I both have fathers of the same race. They are often called Frost Giants and they live on a planet called Jotunheim-" John cut him off with a snort.

"Look if this is somehow some practical joke..."

"You know I don't enjoy nor participate in that low form of humour."

"No seriously, Norse mythology? You're just retelling old Norse stories, I don't understand."

"They are much more than fables, I assure you." Loki stepped into the conversation, both physically and metaphorically, which earned him a dark look from John.

"As I was saying, I am half Frost Giant, which explains the... Colour change when I touch Loki." Sherlock took a breath before carrying on. "It also explains this." He touched his hand to John's face, gingerly. John shivered slightly and frowned even more. Sherlock's hand was as cold as frost, despite the fact that it had now changed back into it's normal colour.

"But... but you've touched me before and you weren't like... A bloody walking icicle."

Sherlock smiled and dropped his hand. "I've learnt to control my skin temperature to appear normal. Look." He lifted his hand back up to John's cheek. It was now a completely normal temperature.

"Why did you never tell me?" John said quietly.

Sherlock shrugged. "There was no need to."

John dropped his shoulders and let out a long sigh. He wasn't exactly sure how to process this new information. This made no sense. _Am I dreaming? No of course not. My dreams are never this strange. _He frowned and stared absently at the floor. His friend. His flat mate and colleague was part alien. Or part _Frost Giant_ as he had said. He knew Sherlock was... Different, but this was too far. Despite the evidence he had seen and felt with his own eyes and nerves, he still couldn't believe it. John swallowed and looked back to Sherlock's now pale blue-grey eyes.

"I just... I just need some time to... Process. You know, you being. Half Jotunheim or whatever."

"Half Jotunn. The realm is called Jotunheim." Loki murmured from the corner of the room. He had previously slunk back into the shadows as John had been thinking.

Sherlock shot him a look and nodded at John. "Of course."

John raked a hand through his hair and set off down the stairs. He wasn't sure where he was going to go, maybe a coffee shop or a park bench. He didn't much care at that moment, he just needed to be away from the flat to mull things over. _And to think, I had woken up thinking the biggest thing I'd face today was being rejected for a date..._

Sherlock watched John leave and turned back to Loki. "Well that went... As expected."

"It did?"

"Mmm." Sherlock sighed and walked over to the demi-god who embraced him. Sherlock froze for a second before hugging him back.

"He will come round in time." Loki spoke softly into Sherlock's ear.

"I know."

They pulled apart to find blue faces looking back at each other. Sherlock groaned and Loki chuckled lightly.

"We must find a way to stop that from happening or I won't be able to take you anywhere." Sherlock said with a smile. Loki's laugh was infectious.

Loki rose his eyebrows. "You're planning on taking me somewhere?"

"Steady on." Sherlock couldn't help but let out a small laugh before leaning into Loki and kissing him.

Loki attempted to form a witty reply but was hindered somewhat by the sudden soft lips on his own. He opened his mouth to the kiss and wrapped both arms around Sherlock, bringing him closer. Sherlock eventually pulled back to breathe and he looked into Loki's heavy lidded eyes.

"You know I finally understand why people make such a big deal over kissing."

"Had you really never kissed anyone before?"

"Not properly. Once as an experiment when I was younger but that was it." Sherlock shrugged. It had never really interested him before today anyway.

"You are a strange human indeed."

"So I have been told."

Loki chuckled again and pulled Sherlock into another passionate kiss, his hands roaming all over the man's body before threading themselves into his dark curls. Sherlock let out a muffled moan and internally scolded himself whilst his hands flitted over Loki's ridiculous clothing. He gave up after a short while and decided to just pull on his lapels which made Loki break away and giggle.

"Having trouble?" Loki asked, smirking.

"How the hell does any of that work?"

"Clever Asgardian craftsmanship, my friend."

"Or in other words, too many layers."

Loki rolled his eyes. "Is that your subtle way of telling me to take my clothes off?"

"Depends. Are you going to take your clothes off?"

"Not if there's a chance of your friend walking in again."

"Fine." Sherlock eyed Loki with red eyes. "But first I want to stop turning into a... walking icicle as John put it, every time I touch you."

Loki frowned for a moment. "How is it that you can change your skin temperature?"

"I learnt to." Sherlock shrugged.

"Well perhaps you can learn to stay in your human form in the same way."

Sherlock frowned at this suggestion; it could work. He concentrated on his hand as he raised it to Loki's face once more. As usual, where their skin touched, it started growing cold and darkening in colour. Sherlock sighed and concentrated harder. Slowly, the colour change in his own hand started to lessen, until only his fingers were blue, the nails a dark almost black colour. Eventually, the change started going back the other way until Sherlock's hand had returned to normal. Loki's face however was not so normal looking. Small, paler ridges were visible along his brow and cheekbones like tribal paint, and his eyes glistened red.

"You were right." Sherlock said, slightly surprised.

"You are skilled at controlling your body. I however am less so." Loki smiled wryly back as Sherlock removed his hand and stared at it for a moment.

"I like your Jotunn form." Sherlock murmured. He traced a pale line across the demi-god's cheek. "Even though you are chilly." They both grinned.


End file.
